


The Ascension to Dovahkiin

by princesharkhead (TinabiK)



Series: skyrim scraps [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Polyamory, Self-Insert, Sibling Incest, Threesome, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:53:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26593222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinabiK/pseuds/princesharkhead
Summary: The Dragonborn, in canon, is always an outsider to Skyrim.Nura, an khajiit orphan, is adopted by the Companions. When she becomes of age, she finally bears the mantle and title of Companion. she's eager to bring honor to her family, but when her first  job puts her in the path of the Imperial Legion and the Stormcloaks and their battle, she finds herself with a lot more trouble than she ever anticipated.
Relationships: Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Farkas, Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Vilkas, Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Vilkas/Farkas
Series: skyrim scraps [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2108673
Kudos: 1





	The Ascension to Dovahkiin

“Vilkas, I’m still not over how you tore that ambush apart!” Nura bounds through the oak gates that lead into Writerun. “They act all tough and don’t even realize they’re dead the next second!” 

Vilkas shakes his head at her high energy. Her adrenaline levels can linger for hours, and the older man wishes he were just turning of age. His eyes followed her bouncing and jumping and-- and he’s looking away, because he’s getting a headache. He distantly wonders if she’s so lively because she’s a khajiit. Yeah, that explains it. Explains how she can jump so high, too. 

“Hey, new blood! Rooftops are not for jumping on!”

Nura flips and rolls off the patio roof with the ease of a dancer’s, landing in a perfect crouch, before stretching her arms to the clouds. Her fur ruffles slightly as she settles her arms to her sides. She turns to look at Vilkas and his glare. Her whiskers flare out as she bears her teeth into a khajiit-classic grin.

Tch. show off.

“Not everyone can have your big,  _ strong  _ physique, Vilkas.” Nura practically purrs as she loops her arms around his closest bicep and squeezes. Turns his head away, picking up pace in their stroll back to Jorrvaskr, as if trying to out pace her and his blush. She easily keeps pace, her grin seemingly everlasting. 

“Focus, Nura.” Vilkas grunts, slowing to navigate the market center. It seems especially busy today, with his difficulty walking with Nura pleased as cream, attached to his arm. “You still got your initiation.”

“Oh yeah!” Nura bounds up the steps leading into the cloud district, finally releasing him in her remembered excitement. “How long will we have to wait for the final verdict of my Trial?”

“The ceremony is already set up, cub.” He does  _ not _ keep pace with her, his boots almost dragging up the stone steps. 

“What? But Kodlak said--”

“Yeah, well,” Vilkas interrupts, meeting her at the top. The khajiit looks like a small shadow in the shade of the archway, what with her shorter build and dark fur. “He said that only to motivate you.”

Nura laughs, utterly delighted with the ruse. “Oh, I should have known!”

“There’s no way you could have figured it out.”

“Yes, I could!”

“But you didn’t!” Vilkas grins, endlessly amused by the khajiit’s face squashing into a pout. She looks like she really is just a cub. Vilkas can’t help but be nostalgic.

Nura doesn’t waste a moment to greet the other circle members, family that have been with her all her life. She immediately delves into her tale, gesturing in dramatic arcs. It was quite impressive that she managed to finish before Kodlak tried to redirect her attention. Always so doting to her. She settles at the head of the circle. Kodlak doesn’t hide his look of pride, and her tail betrays her excitement and nerves. 

“Brothers and sisters, today we welcome a new soul to our mortal fold…”

  
  
  


Jorrvaskr overflows with light, drink and cheer well into the night. Nura preens and croons under all the attention as the newest Companion. Nura‘s heart soars with such love for her family.

Nura, her memory swimming in alcohol, dances with Aela on the tables as the others cheer and sing. She shares a glass with her (found) father, as kitten kisses exchange like arrows in a crossfire. Nura challenges Farkas to a drinking game, and drinks herself under the table. 

When Vilkas lends his shoulder to her, Farkas doesn’t make note of it. Something about helping her vomit and then sending her to bed. The younger twin returns to the festivities with vigor, challenges the other Companions to a drinking contest, and drinks  _ them all  _ under the table.

It isn’t until everyone has gone to bed, and Farkas finally bids Tilma good night, that he notices something. Nura isn’t in the whelp pen, in her bed. His curiosity is answered, when he passes his brother’s room. 

He’s spent plenty a night with the two of them to figure out that their early departure was nothing more than a ruse. They simply had ditched the celebrations for a celebration of their own.

“You should have told me you two were wanting to play,” He slinks into Vilkas’ room. Nura is too busy with Vilkas’ intrusion to properly greet her other heart, much to his viewing pleasure. Farkas simply begins to disrobe, with just enough sense to keep his armor from clattering into the floorboards. He kicks it all into a corner, as an afterthought. Vilkas climaxes with a grunt, stifling a growling roar in his chest. Nura arches beneath him, her claws leaving pink welts along his back. 

“We decided to start without you,” Vilkas finally looks at his brother, as Nura hums and sighs beneath him. “Our kitten figured that you’d be all the more eager to mount her later if we left you behind, and I can see that she’s right.”

Farkas knows what he means. The younger twin is already hard and aching, without any touches to rouse him. Farkas is unashamed, seeing Nura enjoying herself with Vilkas’ softening cock still inside her. She even whines when Vilkas removes himself, seemingly upset that his copious amounts of seed pour from her cunt. Farkas can’t stop the rumble in his chest at the sight.

“Come on, Nura,” Vilkas prods at her side. “It’s Farkas’ turn with you.”

Nura finally opens her eyes to gaze at the other nord. Farkas will always be amazed with the color. Her usually thin pupils are now the size of shor, round and almost ridding her eyes of gold. She rises from the furs beneath her, finally releasing Farkas from her gaze as she cleans her own furs of Vilkas at the wash basin. Vilkas takes her place in the furs, unabashedly staring at his younger brother. Farkas averts his eyes from Vilkas, as the tempting sight of his brother, soft cock and all, was almost too much. 

Nura returns to the twins, her claws damp with cold water running down Farkas’ back, the cold and the sharpness making him flex and shiver. Nura kneels onto the bed, and settles in Vilkas’ embrace, leaving her raised backside to Farkas. The pink flesh of her cunt shines in the candle light, and Farkas licks his lips like he hungers for a hunt. 

“Well, Farkas?” Nura catches his gaze with a wink, turning over her shoulder, the dreadlocks fanning over her back, and her tail curling enticingly. “Won’t you mount me?”

Farkas grips her rear, earning him a gasp, as he gets a closer look to her opening. Her cunt flexes under his gaze, giving him a wink of its own. Vilkas’s seed and her own wetness lingers inside, and he wants to bury his mouth in Nura’s cunt, eager to taste her and his brother. But, no, he mustn’t get distracted.

Farkas forcibly yanks Nura closer to him, to his cock. Nura stifles a delighted squeal, as she is pulled away from Vilkas. Farkas enters her in one decisive motion. She cries out, elated that she is so suddenly filled. And, Divines, Farkas groans without reservation. She’s still so wet, even after cleaning herself.

Farkas sets a rough pace, the motions of his thrusts has her moving into Vilkas like the tide, her moans and sighs reminiscent of salty shores. Vilkas takes her clit in his hand, circling the pearl above her opening. She moans a little louder under their combined attention, her tail thrashing and twitching against Farkas’ side.

Farkas, heavy with drink, struggles to keep his voice down, as well. Nura’s soaking cunt and Vilkas’s lingering seed feel so hot around him. He grips her hair roughly, and pushes her down, and pins her with his body against his brother. Farkas fucks Nura with added vigor, growling into her ear as her cunt squeezes around him. The ridged side of her soft cunt digs into the underside of his cock, and he can hardly see past the pleasure. Vilkas’ mouth finds his, and they exchange kisses and nips over Nura’s shoulder. Nura occupies her mouth with Vilkas’ chest, her teeth and tongue licking and biting around the nipple.

Farkas begins to lose rhythm as his own climax approaches. He abandons Vilkas and his mouth to dig his teeth into the juncture of Vilkas’ shoulder and throat. He growls deep in his belly as his orgasm finally crests, filling Nura with his own seed, and he feels distant pride in the prospect of ridding Nura of Vilkas’. Nura croons between the twins, her body vibrating with her purrs. The vibrations that surround Farkas’ softening cock makes him twitch, the minute pleasure overwhelming to his sensitive nerves. He removes himself from her and the bed, and retreats to the washbasin.

“Let me clean up,” Farkas says, his tone soft and warm. He returns with the cleaned towel, and pauses when he sees Nura licking around Vilkas’ rehardened cock. Vilkas runs his hands through the tendrils of her hair, a soft look that twitches with pleasure on his face.

“Nura is helping me clean up,” he laughs, groaning softly when Nura licks up the underside of him. “But I’m sure she’d appreciate you cleaning her up.”

Farkas laughs, as well. He kneels behind her, catching the spilt cum from between her legs. She mewls at the cold towel, but remains still enough for Farkas to clean her. He returns the soiled rag to the washbasin as Vilkas orgasms in her mouth. 

They settle in Vilka’s bed together, piled up on the furs and tucked under a wool blanket. Nura curls around Farkas, her arm pillowing his neck. Vilkas curls around her, her back flush against him.

“Good night, Farkas.” he says, Nura already purring with snores, asleep.

“Good night, Vilkas.”

  
  


Morning comes slowly to the three of them, what without windows to bring in the light of a new day. Nura awakens first, or course. She basks in the warmth of the furs and blankets, and of her twin lovers. She has half a mind to go back to sleep, but she then remembers the celebration from last night. 

She is a Companion.

Nura slinks from under the covers, and from Vilkas’ sleepy embrace. He doesn’t seem to mind, as he simply cuddles his brother. Nura lingers to enjoy the view of them sleeping like pups, and leaves the room with a slight creek from the door.

Only to duck back into the room, her body burning with embarrassment. She had forgotten to dress, and one of the other whelp companions saw her state of undress. What was her name? Nadia? Njada? Oh, stars, Nura already has a hard time with her… sharp words. Nura fears that Njada will be even more antagonistic with her. Nura sighs, wilting against the door with the burden of shame. Oh well, maybe Njada will even stop speaking with her all together. With a futile hope on her mind, changes into her armor. 

Nura reemerges from Vilkas’ room, and ascends the steps to the main hall. Tilma exchanges a good morning with her, informing her of Skjor’s location. He’s gone to the Skyforge, to speak with Eorlund about something. Nura thanks her, before she goes to leave Jorrvaskr, snatching a cheese wedge from a table as an afterthought.

She polishes her breakfast from her claws as she passes the top of the steps to the Skyforge. Skjor and Eorlund pause their conversation when they spot her.

“Ah, there you are, lass,” Skjor beckons her with an arm. “I was just asking Eorlund to make you a weapon.”

Nura gasps. A Skyforge weapon! She has only gotten her weapons from Adrianna. While the breton made and sold the finest weapons and armor, all of Whiterun knows that Eorlund’s smithing work is legendary. “Can I-- Eorlund, will you make-- smith me a war axe?”

“Ah, now there’s a smart weapon.” The smith smiles warmly at her. “Light, strong, useful. I’ll start working on it for you, lass.” He turns from Skjor and Nura, and sets to work. Nura stares after him, always enchanted with his smithing prowess.

“Why don’t you watch and learn with Eorlund?” Skjor chuckles, amused by Nura’s starstruck look, and her everlasting thirst for knowledge. “I’m sure he would love the company, and the contract I have for you can wait.”

Nura whips her head to grin at Skjor. He always gets a laugh when her pupils round out. The older man pats the little khajiit on the head, and heads back to Jorrvaskr. 

Nura stays behind to watch how Skyforge steel is fashioned with such skilled hands. Nura wonders if he’s this attentive with his wife. She hopes so, as aged, and weathered hands always bring such heat to her insides.

“Well, lass,” Eorlund says, standing from the grindstone and pulling her from her thoughts. He holds out the war axe to her. “Here it is. Your first Skyforge steel. Kodlack ought to be proud.”

Nura takes the weapon with such reverence. She tilts the blade into the sunlight. It shines and glitters in the light, the shadows cast by the sun alight by the forge behind her. This weapon is the most beautiful work of art she has ever seen.

“Thank you…” She says, breathlessly. She sheaths it before turning to Eorlund, the old nord smiling at her.

“Crack some skulls for me.” He says, mirth in his words. She is overcome with gratitude and fondness that she bearhugs him, her arms strong around his waist. Eorlund returns the hug, before ushering her after Skjor. She almost forgot about the contract!

Nura bounds into Jorrvaskr, nearly running into Aela in her haste. They make a short dance as they circle each other to avoid collision. Aela points back to the living quarters, for she knows why the dark-furred khajiit is so eager to tear through the hall. Nura thanks her as she leaps down the stairs, the doors at the bottom not deterring her momentum.

“Skjor!” Nura finally slows her pursuit and settles on the spare chair next to him. “You have a job for me?”

“Goodness, girl!” the older nord doesn’t hide his laughter. He marks his place in his book and sets it down to face her “You look like you ran all the way from Riverwood.”

“I can’t help it!” Nura is out of her seat already, stopping herself from pacing but unable to control her body from gesturing wildly. “I’ve waited my whole  _ life _ to become a Companion and now that I finally  _ am, _ I can’t wait another moment!”

She doesn’t quite understand the return of Skjor’s roarous laughter, because she is being serious, dammit it. But she doesn’t think much about it since she always smiles when she brings joy and pleasure to those important to her. She waits, her arms still outstretched above her, for Skjor to quiet his laughter and tell her about her contract, right now, please.

“Settle down, Nura.” He wipes a tear from his blind eye. She obeys, returning to her seat and lowering her arms to her lap. “I’ve got just the job for your spirited energy.”

  
  


And so she packs her belongings, saying goodbye to her brothers and sisters (and a lingering stare from Njada) before she starts her trek. A contract points her to a bandit nest, in the Rift. Thieves and thugs have been terrorizing a main road and she has been chosen to thin out the bandits in Lost Knife Hideout.

She barely descends into the Diamond Quarter when her attention pulls to an argument. A Redguard couple, and the wife is threatening to leave her husband if he goes to retrieve a family sword from a group of bandits. Oh, maybe it’s the same bandits? She approaches the man just as the other woman storms away.

The slightly distressed man tells her his troubles. Poor thing! Valtheim Towers isn’t where she is heading, but it  _ is  _ on the way! She will look for it on her way back from her contract. Having appeased the man, she makes her way down and past the market. Ysolda bids her hello, and Nura makes small talk with Carlotta as the warrior trades coins for fruit. Apparently she’s gotten sick of that “damn Bard’s” advances. Maybe Nura will talk with him when she returns. 

Nura couldn’t help but detour to speak with Adrianna. She’s tempering an iron sword when Nura shows off her new Skysteel waraxe. The breton is glad for her, but admits that she’ll be sad she lost a customer. After a few laughs, Nura bids her well, finally passing the giant oak doors leading out of Whiterun. The open places to the west greet her, but do not call for her. She heads east, past the stables and farms towards the main road to Riften.

She makes as far as the crest of the dirt road to meet a pair of bandits standing under an abandoned tower. Oh, this must be where that family sword is. The man and woman, a breton and imperial respectively, leer at her, as if she was a simple traveler, and not a warrior.

“Hey, cat,” The woman says, her voice sharp and loud enough to send a bird perched on a tree behind her to flee. “This here’s a toll road.” Nura merely blinks slowly, slouching her shoulders with tired acceptance that they wanted to play. Tch. Such a pain.

“You gotta pay a toll to use this road.” The man continues, oblivious or ignoring Nura’s unimpressed body language. “Pay us, say… a hundred gold, and we’ll let you be on our way.” The khajiit sighs, insufferably annoyed. This is such a  _ pain! _

“If only it ever was.” She says, taking her Bow of the Hunt from its place on her back. She nocks a Skysteel arrow and draws the bowstring back. The man draws his sword and advances, realizing he isn’t getting his money so easily.

“Why you little--” His sneer and insult are interrupted when the arrow flies into his eye socket. He falls forward with his momentum, and he falls on his face at Nura’s feet. The force of his fall makes the arrow go through the backside of his skull, blood and gore and brain matter spraying upwards. 

The imperial woman shouts, having been stuck frozen at the sight of her companion dying so suddenly. She looks up at Nura and the khajiit nocks a new arrow and points it at her. She backs up, knowing that you never bring a dagger to a bow fight.

“Listen carefully, now,” Nura speaks to the bandit, utterly bored with killing a man in one shot. The bandit, frozen in fear, can’t even nod. Nura accepts the not-answer “You are going to let me pass, and not give me more trouble, understand?”

The woman nods, finally able to move at the silent threat. Nura shoos the bandit with her loaded bow, and Nura almost laughs at the woman tripping over her dead friend’s foot. The scared little thing runs into the open doorway and ducks behind a wall. Nura needs to be safe, so she backs away from the bandit nest and further down the dirt road to her destination. It isn’t until the door the woman entered disappears under the topside of the hill.

She relaxes her arms, finally lowering her bow. She sighs heavily, not realizing that she’s been holding her breath the past several steps. She supposes that the prospect of the woman looking for reinforcements made her anxious. She returns the arrow back in its quiver, and sets her bow away. She readjusts her pack, and continues her way to Lost Knife Hideout.

She’s eager to complete her first true contract. And there isn’t anything that could stop her from returning home victorious.


End file.
